


The Not!fic Where Brendon was Somewhat Secretly a Werewolf

by dapatty



Series: that werewolf!verse [1]
Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Anal Sex, Angst and Humor, Crack, M/M, Mild Language, Oral Sex, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-10
Updated: 2011-12-10
Packaged: 2017-10-27 04:17:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/291535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brendon gets himself turned into a werewolf and finally tells Spencer and they have sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Not!fic Where Brendon was Somewhat Secretly a Werewolf

**Author's Note:**

> crack!fic written in a feverish state

So like Brendon knew he’d have to tell Spencer he got turned into a werewolf eventually. Like probably. Well, he hadn’t quite worked out what he’d do on tour, you know, with the whole turning into a wolf thing three nights out of the month thing. But he was working on it, if by working you meant fretting. A lot. But anyway, he sure as hell didn’t mean for the way for Spence to find out was by shifting in front of him on the night of the full moon and then running away. Honestly, that’s not how he wanted it to go. How do you even bring something like that up in conversation? And if it were anything like Brendon telling Spencer that he’s stupidly in love him, well, then he’d have preferred to never tell Spencer that he’s a werewolf too.

See, Bden got turned into a werewolf where else but at a party that Pete fucking Wentz threw. In Brendon’s defense, when he’d gone out to the garden to get some air, he was very drunk and like, there were actual furries at the party. You know the level of drunk where approaching some sort of growling dog in the moonlight was good idea. And he was emotionally compromised anyway, what with the split from Ryan and Jon being all official now. But really, he was drunk and a little high and wanted to pet a wolf. He might have to eventually admit that he didn’t actually have a sense of self-preservation, but Zac would say, “I told you so.” And yeah, Brendon just wasn’t gonna go there yet.

So anyway, when Brendon woke the next morning, in some shrubbery near Pete’s house, totally naked, he didn’t necessarily think anything was amiss, until the following night, especially because now apparently colors have smells. And he had sworn not to smoke any weed without Jon and was clearly being punished because he smoked without him. See the next night, he freaked out not only himself, and ruined his favorite t shirt, but freaked out his dog Bogart by turning into a motherfucking werewolf in his living room. Aside from the initial traumatic changing into something else entirely experience and getting into some sort of doggy argument with Bogart, where maybe Bogart was actually the boss of him-that part was all jumbled in his head-really becoming a werewolf was kind of anticlimactic. Like almost boring. Except for how the world seemed to be in technicolor or something now. Like sounds almost had a smell. And he had ALL THESE WEIRD URGES that he wasn’t thinking about yet. So clearly, it wasn’t the weed.

He did end up calling someone about it. Someone, in Brendon’s somewhat weird logic, came down to a phone call to Mikeyway. Because, Brendon decided, he couldn’t call Pete because Pete was busy with baby things and he might end up with some sort of bonkers guilt thing. And he couldn’t call Patrick, because Trick was busy being awesome recording his own shit and he’d tell Pete who’d end up telling Spencer. And yeah, he just didn’t want to tell Spencer that he’d got himself turned into a mythical creature, not when they hadn’t properly started recording the album yet. So Mikey Way was the logical choice. Well, Gerard would have probably been better, but the guy could talk your ear off and you’d completely forget why you called in the first place after you discussed Doom Patrol for an hour, werewolf or not.

“So what do you know about werewolves,” Brendon had said to Mikey after his vague texts got Mikey to just call him.

“You should tell Pete,” Mikey had cautioned.

“Well yeah, but some info first, please,” Brendon could feel Mikey making eyebrows at him all the way from Jersey. “I mean, I kinda mighta got turned into one and I might be freaking out, just a little, ya know? Google is not my friend.”

“Google is no one’s friend. Bob could explain this better,” Mikey had started and then explained everything, a lot of which Brendon had figured out. “Tell me you haven’t hurt anyone.”

“I haven’t. I’m pretty sure. I was drunk the first night, making it as far as some shrubbery in Pete’s back yard, and last night and I think I lost some sort of canine argument about whose house this actually is,” Brendon explained.

“Only you would lose an argument with a dog,” Mikey chuckled. “Yeah, you’ll be fine. And if you’re not, call Bob. Actually call Bob anyway.”

“Of course Bob Bryar is a werewolf,” Brendon muttered.

“Well yeah,” Mikey said like it was a indisputable fact of the universe. It probably was.

 

But the first time Brendon saw Spencer after being changed into a werewolf, Brendon realized that Spencer had a secret too. See, there was always something about Spencer that Brendon had just chalked up to Spencer being Spencer, but now. He smelled funny. Not bad or weird exactly. Just different. Like electricity. No, glitter. But he was never wearing any. There was the usual smell of Spencer that Brendon had always liked, which left him feeling even more like a crushing teenage girl. Because Brendon had always been more than a little head over heels over Spencer and had pretty much kept his crush/mad love under control. But with how good he smelled, Brendon would have to soon admit that he’d been a fool to think he’ll be able to manage, but he’d try anyway. Even though the magic smell kind of put him off, which both must have been a wolf thing. But he was not going to call Bob Bryar because he couldn’t manage his crush, wolfy snuggly thoughts, okay. And he still wasn’t quite over Bob’s werewolf sex talk.

So to figure out what the fuck was going on with Spencer, he got together for lunch with Ryan once they were speaking again.

“Is Spence like a magical fairy or something?” Brendon had asked after most of the usual pleasantries had been exchanged.

Ryan made a really uncomfortable face, which involved an impressive widening of the eyes-at least by Ryan’s standards with a little lift to the corner of his mouth before he managed, “No.”

Brendon smelled a lie, which was weird and interesting and infuriating all at once.

“Really?” Brendon asked a little more sarcastic and hurt-sounding than he intended. Look, he’d never forgotten that Ryan and Spencer have been best friends since grade school and this was just them watching out for each other. He just might be frustrated or something, and the wolf being all growly in his head was not helping.

“Spencer is just Spencer,” Ryan made a little floppy hand gesture and looked at Brendon like he wanted him to leave it. Like this was something he should be talking to Spence about. Like maybe he had growled a little out loud. Shit.

“Well, yeah,” Brendon cleared his throat, frowned and was still frowning until the waiter brought their food.

“Hey, since when do you eat steak?” Ryan asked with a very confused lifted eyebrow.

“Since recently,” Brendon answered, delicately slicing into the rare meat and primly placing the bite into his mouth and not picking up the whole steak like his wolf wanted and tearing at it with his teeth.

“Uh-huh,”Ryan put the eyebrow down and carried on eating his salad like things weren’t too weird.

Then there’s this part where Bden and Spencer start recording and are kind of weird toward each other, but not too weird -- until it _does_ get a little too weird, which just made Spencer pissy. But anyway, some other things happen, possibly even involving a helpful PStump conversation about identity, the nature of monsters and Bden telling Trick that he’s totally a werewolf-don’t tell Spencer pleaseokay- or comes close enough that Trick calls Pete after the conversation to go, “So Bden’s a werewolf. Who do I need to get Bob Bryar to beat up for making Bden a woobly ball of angst and woe?” Because Trick was totally not going to beat anyone up. He’d been working out, but sometimes you just got to let Bob be a badass, okay.

Pete’s all, “Actually, if Bob were not like as intimidating, I’d have the kid talk to him about the wolf thing, if he isn’t already.. And look, I didn’t think any wolves still roamed the valley these days. You don’t know HOW BAD I FEEL about this. I am a BALL OF WOOBLY, Trick. HOLD ME.”

Trick hangs up, because this is his usual response to these situations and calls Bob anyway, because Bob’s kind of Zen now and he’s not even mean about how Pete wanted to wear Trick’s hat and other things and how Trick kinda wanted that-but that was a whole different story.

Then maybe something else happens that really raises Spencer’s eyebrows, so he barges in Bden’s the night of the full moon because he’s all about timing and Bden wasn’t out last night and he didn’t answer any of Spence’s calls, or texts, or tweets and he wasn’t at Pete’s and when Spence called Pete, Pete was all waffly on the phone and all “You should talk to him, but NOT TONIGHT.”

So Spence just shows up. After dark. Right at moonrise and Brendon freaks out. Because yeah, he’s been fine by himself at home all wolfed out. FINE. And Bogart and he even get along now and he hasn’t eaten him yet. But Spence smelled like magic and he’s a person and he just doesn’t now what he’ll do with himself if he ate Spencer or humped his leg or both but in reverse order. He just was not able to deal with this possible worst case scenario and/or friendship ending unpleasantness and before he can say any more than, “Spence GO AWAY please,” Which only causes Spence to dig his heels in and refuse, then Brendon shifts, ruining his favorite shirt (that he’d totally stolen from Spencer and now he’ll never have another favorite shirt like that because Spencer was clearly going to hate him over this whole not telling him he’s a werewolf thing and shit).

When Brendon looked up, on four legs and terrified, Spence was just staring at him. And he didn’t smell afraid, just looked so confused and a little hurt. And Spencer smelled even better, but the magic smell was so loud, like jangly, but in his nose, that it made him freak out and the wolf said, “run.” And Brendon said, “YES! GOOD IDEA!” So he took off out the back patio door and managed to jump over the privacy fence, which he would celebrate much later after he’s done freaking out, and much to the protesting of Bogart-who’s never even come close to jumping that fence, no matter how many times they’ve both tried the nights Brendon’s all wolfed out.

Bden ended up hiding in this little stretch of woods near his house while Spencer paced in his living room and tried to figure out when he became a guy that no one could confide in and run away from. Eventually he snuck back to his house and jumped the gate to hide in the corner of the yard where he could spy on Spencer. Because he’s a creeper or a little heartbroken or a little too curious for his own good.

“But seriously,” Spencer said and he was totally talking to Bogart, which would be weird except it kind of wasn’t, because he was sure Bogart understood. “Why wouldn’t he tell me? He told you. Actually, he probably didn’t tell you either. He probably just surprised the shit out of you and then you told him he was an idiot and then he looked like you kicked him and then you said you’re sorry for being someone he couldn’t trust. And then maybe it was awkward for awhile. But, you’re not going anywhere, you know. Not that you could if you wanted to. I mean I did choose him, already. How could he think I wouldn’t choose him, Bogart?”

Bogart looked at Spencer very seriously and then sneezed, his tail twitching minutely.

“Yeah, I’m an idiot,” Spencer agreed, just as serious. “Maybe _I_ should bite his ear and make him show me his belly.”

Brendon was ready to totally come back into the house at that one. Because he didn’t quite agree that Spence was an idiot, per se. Just that he was been just as equally shady or just as not forthcoming. And he did actually, kind of want Spencer to do that whole ear biting thing, except maybe he wanted him to wait until Brendon had thumbs again. Or something. Not that he was letting himself think about anything like that yet. Just. Yeah. Even his inner wolf agreed that they were both totally gone for Spencer Smith. For fuck’s sake.

Brendon padded over to the open patio door and whined at Spencer.

“Hey,” Spencer looked a little sheepish, like he thought maybe Brendon heard all that or he felt a little embarrassed to have been talking to Bogart.

Brendon sighed and walked over and jumped up onto the couch and curled up, out of biting distance, because STILL NO THUMBS. He stuck his nose in the cushions, looking up at Spencer woefully.

Spencer sat down beside Brendon on the couch, close enough to touch, but not yet. “So,” he said, trailing off.

Brendon whined, and yawned, unintentionally showing off whoa-pointy teeth to Spencer, who smelled even better than before, less jangly.

“Are you mad at me?” Spencer asked.

Brendon tried to roll his eyes and kind of failed, but guessing on the chuckling of Spencer, he’d made his point.

“I’m not mad at you,” Spencer said, carefully. “But you might be at me. There’s something I haven’t told you, but I’d rather talk to you when you’d at least be able to yell at me, if you wanted.”

Brendon untucked his nose from the couch cushions and laid it on Spencer’s thigh as if to say, “Okay, we’ll talk about it tomorrow, but tonight you can scratch my ears and we’ll pretend everything isn’t totally and completely weird.”

Spencer lifted up a hand, palm open, and curved his fingers around the back of Brendon’s head, a little too carefully, like he was tucking his hair behind his ear. Brendon laid a paw on his knee like GET ON WITH IT, MAN, I HAVE ITCHES HERE, and Spencer got down to scratching.

They fell asleep that way, maybe Brendon before Spencer, but anyway that’s how Brendon woke up naked on the couch next to Spencer Smith in the morning. Spencer who had thrown a blanket on both of them. Spencer whose eyes were open and looking at Brendon, as far as he could tell. He was not wearing his glasses. You’d think getting turned into a creature of the night would magically fix his eyesight, but no.

“So, hi?” Brendon didn’t mean to make it a question. But he’s totally naked and he’s not caffeinated and can’t remember where his glasses would have fallen to and freaking out a little because Spencer would totally want to talk now. Shit.

“You don’t snore when you’re a wolf. It’s a little disconcerting.” Spencer was smiling ruefully.

“Because I don’t snore,” Brendon protested. He totally didn’t snore. It didn’t matter how much Spence insisted he did. He did not. Much.

Yeah Spencer was totally smiling at him. He smelled like he was smiling. Brendon smiled back, because maybe they would be okay. Spencer’s not yet confession notwithstanding.

Spencer sat Brendon’s glasses on his face and Brendon could see the smile, but there was something tucked into the corners of it. Bits of worry. Even his beard looked a little worried.

“So, should I put on pants for this confession of yours or are we past pants? Oh god. I said that out loud,” Brendon groaned and pulled the blanket over his head. “Spennnnce,” he whined, safe under the covers, “just tell me why you smell funny, and then we can have coffee.”

“You think I smell funny?” Spence asked, ignoring that whole pants bit.

“Like glitter, it’s all tingly,” Brendon explained making wavy hands, which stuck out under the blanket and made it bulge. “Seriously, we can have pancakes too. But I’ll need pants for pancakes.”

“My parents are gonna kill me if they ever find out about this,” Spencer grumbled, low and dangerous, and before Brendon could ask what he meant, he smelled pancakes. And coffee.

He cautiously peeked his head out from under the blanket to find Spencer mucking about in his kitchen. He missed Spence being in his kitchen. They should just move in together. Brendon realized, somewhat belatedly, that he didn’t think they had the stuff to make pancakes. Or anything breakfasty at all. They definitely didn’t have syrup. But he could smell syrup. The real stuff, too.

Brendon dug around in the couch and found a pair of boxers he remembered leaving there. What? Sometimes a guy just has to go skinny dipping in his own pool, okay. He shimmied into them under the covers and stood, stretching. Not that he was embarrassed or anything, it was just. Spencer. And yeah. Not yet. He wasn’t all that sore, of course he didn’t really play with Bogart last night, either. He oddly missed it. There’s totally tomorrow night though. He wondered if there was still bologna in the fridge. That was good for a snack after two or so hours of tag.

He wandered over and hopped up on one of the counter where Spencer wasn’t working.

“Dude, sanitary that is not,” Spencer made flappy, shooing motions at him, while not looking bothered.

“My house, I can sit on the counter if I want,” Brendon smirked, all shit eating grin. He’d totally jump down, he just doesn’t want to end up with a wedgie. Spencer would surely laugh at him then.

Spencer rolled his eyes at him. “Idiot,” he said, but not unkindly playfully slapping at Brendon’s hands as he tried to steal a bite and failed.

“So why do you smell sparkly?” Brendon asked and watched as Spencer’s eyebrows went further up his forehead. “I mean. How do you smell like a sparkler without smelling like fireworks?”

“Only you,” Spencer shook his head, tossing the pancakes up in the pan, flipping them with just a flick of his wrist. “Only you would find a way to describe a smell that way.”

“We are all unique snowflakes, dude,” Brendon said sagely. “So, why?” he asked, gently poking at Spencer’s side with his foot.

Spencer turned off the stove and carefully plated everything, pouring the warm maple syrup carefully over. “So, I’m a *cough*fairygodparent*cough* okay.”

“Dude, even with the improved wolfy hearing, I didn’t catch that,” Brendon leaned in closer to Spencer, trying to catch his eyes to reassure him that he’s here no matter what. That he would stick with Spencer until the wheels fell off, because Spencer chose to come with him and make music. Chose him over Ryan. He’d even somehow bury his crush if it meant that Spencer stayed. So it didn’t matter what Spencer said, even though it suspiciously sounded like Spencer just told him he was a fairy.

“I said that I’m a fairy godparent, okay?” Spencer looked extremely uncomfortable and a little wilty.

“Seriously?” Brendon couldn’t help but ask, head tilted. “Like the cartoon?”

“Kind of, but it’s kinda like not being a fairy exactly. And I don’t have a charge, _exactly_. It’s a family thing. It’s kind of more of a witchy sort of thing. There’s a lot of politics involved. It’s actually kind of hard to explain,” Spencer waffled. “And I was never supposed to tell you.”

“Kind of witchy like how I didn’t have any breakfast stuff at all and you just kind of made some appear?” Brendon asked and Spencer nodded. “And come to think of it, you’ve worked little miracles before. Like sometimes I wish you were around and you just kind of show up, without a car. Inexplicable fantastical shit happens around you, Spence. I always just thought it was part of your charm.”

Spencer shrugged, “Yeah, it’s kind of just me being me.” He started to pick up a fork.

Brendon hopped down, wedgies be damned, and threw his arms around Spencer. “You’re magic! That’s kind of awesome!”

“Yeah?” Spencer sounded unsure, even as he relaxed into the hug.

“Yeah, Spence,” Brendon reassured, arms tightening around Spencer’s shoulders. Spencer, who was still too thin. He’d totally mother hen him later. Well, at least after they were done having their moment. “You were awesome before and you’re awesome now, just with added magic awareness.”

“I guess so,” Spencer managed, but he sounded okay.

“You could have told me,” Brendon said. “And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you I got turned into a werewolf. It’s just been weird and I was kind of freaked out about it and then not freaked out about it and then freaking out about not freaking out about it and you always smell so good even with the tingly magic smell thing. And I didn’t mean to run, but you smelled really tingly. I’d never run away for real.” Brendon paused to take a breath, trembling with all his worry spilling out. He hadn’t realized how much he hadn’t actually talked to Spencer. How much he’d missed it. He felt like he wouldn’t be able to breathe if they weren’t okay again.

“Brendon, hey,” Spencer soothed, his hand cradling the back of Brendon’s head. It felt good there, warm and comforting. Spencer was always doing that. “It’s okay. We’re good. We’re always good.”

Brendon kissed his shoulder and started to let go. Spencer’s hand caught his chin. Spencer’s eyes were dark. He smelled so good and maybe aroused, at least Brendon was thinking that’s what that smell was that made him want to stick his nose in Spencer’s crotch way more than usual, which was saying something. And he was still holding on to Brendon’s chin. Looking. Oh, shit. Spencer might actually be okay if Brendon just leaned in and kissed him. So he did.

Spencer’s lips were soft and there was a sweetness to them. Brendon opened his mouth and kissed Spencer to kiss deeper and there was Spencer’s tongue. In his mouth. And it was amazing. He even tasted as good as he smelled. It was fantastic. Why hadn’t they tried this before?

“Spencer,” Brendon said, breaking from the kiss, sounding a little awed and every bit as smitten as he was.

“Brendon,” Spencer said and it sounded like everything falling into place.

“This is totally the part where you say we should eat before it gets cold, isn’t it?” Brendon joked, pouted to show how much he didn’t like the idea. Even if his stomach was a little growly.

“Well, it is getting cold,” Spencer smirked. “And you need food, wolf-boy.”

“Can’t you just magically heat it up later?” Brendon asked hopefully.

“Yeah, but it won’t taste as good,” Spencer warned, but he was already doing this hand wavy thing where the plates covered themselves like magic.

“But you could totally grab my ear,” Brendon said, significantly. “With your _teeth_.”

“You,” Spencer swallowed, cheeks flushing, the blush spreading down his neck and Brendon wanted to bury his face in that heat. He regained composure. “You want me to?”

“Spencer, I’ve been thinking about you fucking me for kind of a while. Like a _long_ while. And apparently my inner wolf is totally down with going belly up for you,” Brendon admitted.

“Well, okay,” Spencer agreed, swallowing. “Is your?”

“Yeah, bedroom still totally in the same place dude,” Brendon smirked. “There’s like sheets on it and everything.”

“God you are such a jackass,” Spencer rolled his eyes, taking Brendon by the hand. “Why do I even love you?”

Brendon froze, because it sounded like Spence meant that.

“Of course I meant that,” Spence said, smiling at Brendon like he was being a bit of an idiot and maybe said that.

“I love you,” Brendon said, because he could and it made Spencer smile more, fond and impossibly beautiful. It felt warm like basking in the sun.

“C’mon,” Spencer tugged Brendon’s hand and got him moving again and Brendon felt a tingle at the bottom of his spine, like where his tail would be. Yeah. He’s stupidly far gone over Spencer Smith.

Brendon followed along like the pup that he was, pausing once they made it to the bedroom. Brendon’s wolf couldn’t wait to have the smell of Spencer left on his sheets for him to wallow in for days.

Spencer reached out and tugged Brendon’s boxers down and Brendon whimpered as Spence’s fingers ghosted down his thighs as he knelt at Brendon’s feet. Spencer smelled fascinating. Brendon wanted to lick him all over to start. He was sure there was other things he wanted, but with Spencer’s face right there and his hands resting on Brendon’s thighs and with his dick really interested in the proceedings, his brain, wolf and not, was having trouble processing the whole situation.

“Spence,” Brendon said and even his voice was wound tight. His whole body felt like he were a spring, compressed.

“Easy,” Spencer said, cheek resting on Brendon’s thigh, looking up with impossibly dark eyes, licking his lips, cheeks flushed then asked, “Brendon, can I?”

Brendon made a sound between a growl and a whimper and took a moment to breathe. “Yes,” he answered, finding his voice.

Spencer smiled and stood and Brendon pouted and maybe whined a little.

“Tease,” Brendon declared.

“Get on the bed, idiot,” Spencer ordered, amusement in his words, flush still in his cheeks and coloring down his neck.

“Oh,” Brendon grinned sheepishly as Spencer put a hand on Brendon’s chest as if to give him a little push. Brendon could feel the callouses on his hand and how warm they were. “Wait.”

“What now?” Spencer tried to look put-out, but didn’t quite pull if off with how much he was smiling.

“Just,” Brendon took the bottom of Spencer’s t shirt in his hands and pulled it up and over, Spencer lifting his arms helpfully. Brendon tossed the shirt away and there, Spencer’s chest was even flush. Brendon buried his face in that heat and just smelled, nose nuzzling and kissing and tracing the pattern down Spencer’s chest causing Spencer to suck in a breath. He could hear Spencer’s heartbeat speed up as Brendon made it down to his navel and explored Spencer’s belly. He loved Spencer’s belly. Even with the surfing, he had this wonderful little softness that Brendon just wanted to bury his face in.

“Brendon,” Spencer sucked in a breath and trembled a little, like Brendon’s touch tickled or he was embarrassed, flushing more.

“Hmmm,” Brendon kept nuzzling, hand starting to undo Spencer’s jeans. He could smell a salty muskiness. He maybe wanted to put his face down there too.

“Brendon,” Spencer warned, starting to smell all tingly.

“Hmmm?” Brendon made it more of a questioning noise, eyebrow furrowing. All at once Spence’s hands were tucked in his armpits and he was on his back on the bed.

“Spencer, I forgot you were a ninja,” Brendon said seriously which was ruined by his grin, thrilled to have been pounced, or maybe that was his wolf talking. He was happy either way.

“Don’t you forget it,” Spencer shook his head, smiling a smile that turned dirty in all of the best ways. Predatory. That’s the word Brendon was looking for. It was fucking hot.

“Oh never,” Brendon snarked, then his breath caught in his throat as Spencer crawled onto the bed and settled between his spread legs. Spencer who was sat back on his heels who was finally reaching for Brendon’s dick. His hand feels amazing and when he starts to smear the precome with his thumb while squeezing the shaft a little, Brendon almost completely embarrassed himself and came. Instead he makes a growl whine as Spencer slowly started jerking him off.

“Spencccccce,” Brendon whined, starting to sit up.

“Stay,” Spencer said, firmly and Brendon froze, propped up on his elbows.

Spencer leaned down and licked down the shaft and back up causing Brendon to suck in a breath and bucked his hips at the sensation. Spencer splayed his free hand over Brendon’s stomach holding him down.

“Oh God,” Brendon gasped as Spencer took the tip into his mouth and began to suck. And holy fuck was he good at that. “Spencer. Spence. _Spence._ Spencer. Spence.” Brendon panted Spencer’s name, brain leaking out of his ears, feeling like he was about to come out of his skin only being held together by Spencer’s fingers.

Spencer hummed and started working up a rhythm, alternating between sucking and stroking doing his steady level best to drive Brendon crazy, which was only what Spencer’s been doing for forever. Brendon finally got to have this.

“Spence, I’m gonna,” Brendon moaned as Spencer swallowed down to the base and came with a shout, sagging back on the bed.

“You just never shut up, do you?” Spencer asked, but he looked pretty goddamn smug.

“No?” Brendon didn’t mean to make it a question. He probably didn’t, come to think. “Could you look more smug?”

Spencer smiled, his nose crinkling and he looked very pleased with himself.

“Yeah you could,” Brendon decided and Spencer laughed.

“Well, yeah,” Spencer shrugged, while looking serenely unrepentant.

“You could probably look smug without pants, too,” Brendon mused, making grabby hands at Spencer’s jeans.

“You’ve got stuff?” Spencer asked and Brendon almost didn’t know what he was talking about because Spencer was standing and unzipping his pants and Brendon had seen Spencer’s legs before, but it was a nice sight just the same. Even nicer when Spencer simply slid off his boxers and stepped out of them, revealing his hard, leaking cock.

“Stuff?” Brendon licked his lips, distracted by the size of Spencer’s dick. It was a nice length but not too wide, and it was making it difficult to focus on the question. Stuff? OH. “Yes. Bedside drawer.”

Spencer blushed, smiling a little, then walked over to the nightstand, retrieving a condom and lube.

“Over,” Spencer ordered, and Brendon had flipped before he had fully processed that request. Clearly, his wolf was a slut, or at least a slut for Spencer. Really, there were worse things.

Brendon got up on his hands and knees, and rocked back, stretching low, his shoulders down and his neck up. Spence sucked in a breath at the sight of Brendon stretched out waiting for him. Brendon smiled because he knew how it looked.

Spencer walked around behind Brendon and uncapped the lube, warming some in his hand as he placed his other hand on Brendon’s ass. Spencer’s hand was hot there and Brendon couldn’t decide if he wanted Spencer to squeeze or slap or what. Before he could decide, Spencer tucked the first finger in, quickly followed by a second and Brendon moaned because it had been forever since he’d done this. He forgot how much he liked it. And it was better with Spencer doing it. Spencer opening him up with his long fingers, scissoring, stretching with his other hand gripping Brendon’s hip, squeezing reassuringly. Spencer, whose smell was all around him. Spencer, who was taking him apart.

“Spence, _Jesus Christ_ ” Brendon moaned, pushing back as Spencer’s fingers started sliding freely. Then he worked in a third and Brendon whimpered, his back arching.

“That’s good, Brendon,” Spencer praised. “Feel so good inside, so hot. Do you want more?”

“No, fuck me,” Brendon shuddered at the thought of Spencer fucking him. He needed it. He needed it now. “Fuck me. C’mon, Spence. Been waiting. Please. Now. _Please_.”

Spencer eased out his fingers and Brendon felt disappointingly empty. He let out a little whine as he heard Spencer open the condom and slide it on, then the snap of the cap of lube. He smelled the latex and glycerin, pouting silently at the way it covered Spencer’s spicy, glittery scent. Then Spencer’s cock was right there, teasing Brendon’s asshole.

“Spence,” Brendon tried to push back, but Spencer just grabbed his hip and kept him still.

“Stay,” Spencer chided. “Wait.”

Brendon stilled and Spencer finally lined up and pushed in, centimeter by centimeter, doing his best to drive Brendon crazy or maybe just see how long he could moan without taking a breath, because he was opening Brendon up where his fingers couldn’t reach and Brendon’s dick had fully joined in the proceedings again, and Brendon just couldn’t _stop_ moaning.

“Holy shit,” Spencer said and he sounded surprised and fucked out.

“Move, please, Spence,” Brendon pleaded, trembling. “Move.”

“God, you’re tight,” Spencer moaned, both hands grasping Brendon’s hips now. “Brendon, shit.”

Brendon growled, frustrated, and Spencer finally shifted, pulling nearly all the way out and sliding back in, gradually building a rhythm. Brendon was afraid he’d hold back, try to give some kind of first-time due diligence, but he didn’t make Brendon wait, didn’t need any encouragement. He just went faster and faster until they were both panting, angling so that he was hitting Brendon just right, and Brendon could come like this. No, he was _going_ to come like this.

“Close,” Brendon panted, matching Spencer’s gasps. “So. Close.”

Spencer growled, bending over, practically draping himself on Brendon’s back, hips still pumping. And then, there were Spencer’s teeth on the back of Brendon’s neck, not quite biting but the feel pushed Brendon over the edge and he was coming, all over his belly with a half shout, half growl. Spencer managed a few more thrusts and came, kissing the bite as he rested his head between Brendon’s shoulder blades, panting, breath tickling Brendon’s back.

Brendon made a pleased noise as Spencer soothed his sides and pulled out gently as he could manage, making both of them grunt. Brendon stayed propped on his elbows as Spencer found a shirt and wiped them both down and disposed of the condom.

“You could lie down,” Spencer suggested, coming back to the bed.

“Yeah,” Brendon agreed. “When I think my limbs work again.”

Spencer chuckled and pulled Brendon down onto the bed. Brendon snuggled in, arms and legs tangling with Spencer’s, snuggling in as Spencer pulled the blanket over them.

“So, hi,” Brendon said once they were settled, smiling.

“Hi,” Spencer smiled back and it was beautiful. Brendon even felt like they’d be okay.

“Heh.” Brendon grinned.

“Hmm?” Spencer nuzzled against Brendon’s shoulder, goatee tickling.

“You’re just as good a lay as I thought you’d be.”

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[podfic] The Not!fic Where Brendon was Somewhat Secretly a Werewolf](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1107508) by [dapatty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapatty/pseuds/dapatty), [reena_jenkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reena_jenkins/pseuds/reena_jenkins)




End file.
